


Vigil

by Penny_P



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 00:34:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19712701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penny_P/pseuds/Penny_P
Summary: A final conversation between Spock and McCoy.





	Vigil

**Author's Note:**

> The unlikely friendship between Spock and McCoy was just one of the aspects that first hooked me on Trek. When I heard of the death of Deforest Kelley in 1999, I felt compelled to write this to give some closure.

** _Spock, where are you?*_ *

McCoy's voice sliced through his sleep and brought him instantly awake. Spock sat up and looked around, but not because he needed to get his bearings. He knew exactly where he was, in the barn of Keva Vas, a farmer in the Toraj Province of the central continent of Remus. Vas had agreed, with initial reluctance, to provide shelter for Spock and his band for as long as they were in the area.

He looked around because he did not wish to awaken any of his companions. There were eight of them in all, and he was grateful that they slept soundly. They would have felt compelled to go with him, or at least keep watch, and neither was acceptable. What he was about to do, he needed to do alone.

As he made his way carefully and silently outside, he was grateful that he had chosen to remain in the barn. Since his arrival, Vas and his family had become eager students of the Way. As their enthusiasm increased, so did their hospitality and they had been encouraging him for days to move into their home. Since it was not possible for all eight of his companions to also move into the already crowded house, he had demurred. In truth, he found a certain balance in the barn, where technology and nature met and merged. Now he was grateful because he could not have left the house without disturbing someone.

The planet's twin, Romulus, hung high and bright in the sky, casting enough light for Spock to see the path easily. He followed it until he found the place he wanted, a large, flat rock on the edge of a medium sized pond. Carefully arranging his robe, he sat on the rock and looked upward, not seeking a particular star but rather a sense of direction. The direction of the Alpha quadrant, and of Earth.

Although he had anticipated the possibility of this moment, until now he had not been completely certain it would happen. He was equally uncertain about his ability to follow through. McCoy had carried his katra, and he was counting on that to be enough to establish a link. His hands instinctively assumed the position he found most efficient for meditation, index fingers and thumbs touching at the tips, remaining fingers intertwined. Bowing his head, he cast his mind outward to follow the direction he had just charted, visualizing himself traveling across space once more. He passed Remus, then picked up speed, traveling faster than warp so that everything blurred beyond recognition. For the briefest of moments, he thought that he was lost.

** _Where are you, Spock?*_ *

The querulous voice was stronger and helped him refine his journey. At the proper moment, he simply stopped. This time he did need a moment to acclimate himself. He was on Earth, he knew that, but he had half expected to find himself in a room at Starfleet's main hospital. This was no hospital room. The walls were paneled with light pine, the bed an antique of dark polished wood shaped like a sleigh. Through the window, he could see pine trees and wide creek.

There was no equipment in the room, no antiseptic odors. There was a smell, though, that Spock recognized. The smell of imminent death.

Leonard McCoy sat in a rocking chair near the window, bundled under a quilt of hunter green and wine-red pieces. It had been over a decade since Spock had seen him last, and time had not been gentle with the doctor. Only a few wisps of yellow-white hair remained, and his skin was tissue white and nearly translucent. But his eyes were still vividly blue as they widened in surprise.

"Well, I'll be damned," McCoy greeted him. "How did you get here so quickly? I didn't think they could get a message to you this fast."

"I heard you."

"Heard me?" The doctor looked at him shrewdly. "Hmmph. Haven't been able to talk for weeks now. Fractured my larynx in the accident, and it's too damn old to heal. But I'm talkin' now, aren't I? Or am I dead already?"

"You are not dead, Doctor, nor am I." He noticed that the doctor's southern accent was much more pronounced than when they had served together.

"Must be close, though, or you wouldn't be here." McCoy shook his head. "Such a stupid thing. I fell down the steps. Lived nearly 150 years, survived Romulans, Klingons, Tholians and what gets me? Three little steps on the front porch."

"Death is an integral part of life," Spock reminded him.

McCoy snorted. "Easy for you to say. You've been there and back again. And you'll live to be 200, assumin' the Romulans don't cut your head off first. You chose a hell of a retirement hobby, Spock. I never picked you for a missionary."

He acknowledged the point with a half nod. "Nor had I. Circumstances led to that path, however, and it would have been illogical to deny it."

"So, how's it goin'?"

"I did not come here to discuss my efforts at teaching."

"No, you came because I'm dyin'. So humor me. How is the missionary business? Makin' many converts?"

Annoyance flared, then smothered itself. After all these years, McCoy still could irritate him as no other living being could. "A few. It is a difficult thing for a Romulan to choose the Way of Reason under the best of circumstances, and harder when it is a capital offense."

He stopped, realizing that in all the years he had been on Romulus, he had never said more than this about his efforts. There was no one in his circle with whom he could be completely honest, not even D'Tan, his first student and most trusted companion. Honesty would demoralize them and undermine their cause. In his life there had been only three people with whom he could be completely unguarded, and he realized suddenly that McCoy was the last of them still alive. Knowing there would be years of silence ahead, he spoke aloud things he had been keeping to himself.

"There are perhaps a hundred who have truly embraced Surak's teachings. Perhaps five hundred who have listened, and studied, and made the attempt. They failed, but perhaps they will try again. At least they have listened."

The doctor smiled. "I was wrong. You're not a missionary. You're a farmer, plantin' seeds."

"Yes. Seeds of knowledge. Once planted, they cannot be eradicated. It may take time, but eventually the knowledge will flower. It cannot help itself. But I do not think it will happen in my lifetime."

"But it will happen, Spock," McCoy said with more strength than he had shown yet. "Don't doubt that for a moment." He paused, then looked out the window. "When I was a boy, I used to throw stones into the creek out yonder, just to watch the ripples in the water. The bigger the stone, the bigger the ripples were and the farther they went. As I've been lyin' here, I've been thinkin'. You and me and Jim, we tossed some mighty big rocks in our day, and the ripples are still goin' on. It doesn't matter a hill of beans if we're still here or not, the ripples keep goin' on."

Before Spock could frame a reply, McCoy was seized by a fit of coughing. He leaned forward, covering his mouth, and Spock placed a hand behind his head for support. The rattling sound was obvious to both of them. "Damn," he said when he could breathe again. Then he looked up with an expression Spock recognized immediately -- the slight frown and pinched together eyebrows that meant the doctor had just come to a conclusion he didn't like. "You're not really here, are you? You couldn't get here this soon."

"We can debate the nature of reality if you like. It is true that I am not present physically, but nevertheless I am here." If McCoy still knew how to annoy Spock, the reverse was also true.

As he expected, McCoy made a face. "I'm too old for all that mumbo jumbo. I'm probably in a coma and you're nothin' more than a full-blown hallucination." Then his expression turned cunning. "You said once that you couldn't tell me what death was like because I lacked a frame of reference. This is as close as I'm gonna get and still be able to converse, so how about it?"

Spock knew he could not answer the question, because he had spent many years trying to craft one. Language -- any language- was inadequate for the purpose. It was like trying to describe color to one who had always been blind. A mind-meld was no better; he had tried that, too. The limitations were intrinsic in life itself. But as he looked at McCoy's eager eyes he knew he had to try one more time.

"Peace," he said at last. "And freedom. So complete that they are at once simple and profound."

He expected the doctor to take issue with him, to complain that there was no reason he couldn't have told him that before. Instead, McCoy smiled slowly, then nodded. He leaned back against the chair and tugged the quilt a little higher.

"I'm tired, Spock," he said with a sigh. "I've done 'bout all I can do."

"Rest, then."

"It's hell getting old, Spock. Watching your friends and family go before you. I'm so tired." The blue eyes clouded over, then closed. After a moment, Spock reached out and closed his hand over the frail one on the quilt.

Then, the eyes opened, focused on him. "You're gonna be alone now. I'm sorry about that."

He could have pointed out he was never alone, that for security reasons his band of students and companions rarely left his side. But it was true, with Kirk and McCoy both gone, Spock was alone. "It was inevitable."

The bloodless lips curved into a smile. "We did good, Spock." Then the eyes closed again, and he exhaled slowly. He did not draw another breath.

"Yes, Doctor," Spock said, knowing that only he heard his words. "We did good." Then, the link broken, he withdrew from the room and returned to his reality.

As he ended his meditation and opened his eyes, he was immediately aware of the presence of others. In front of him, the sun reflected brightly off the pond, but as he turned he saw that all eight of his companions and Nila Vas, the adolescent daughter of the house, sat in a semi-circle behind him. He reminded himself of the illogic of annoyance.

D'Tan, the first and most steadfast of his companions, spoke. "Is anything wrong, Teacher? We woke and you were not there. We found you here, hours ago."

"I was keeping vigil." The raw pain that swept through him was far more than he expected. He required a moment to compose himself, then explained, "I have lost a friend."

"I grieve with thee." D'Tan bowed his head in the ritual reply, and the other companions mimicked him.

Nila, though, stared at Spock with wide eyes. "Are you the guardian of his katra?"

"No. He was a Human, and Humans generally believe their katra must be set free. But once," he reached a hand toward her, indicating she should sit beside him, "he was the keeper of my katra. Come, I will tell you about it."

His companions shifted their positions, making themselves more comfortable for a long discourse. A few had heard this story before, but most had not. The girl Nila, greatly honored, scrambled to her feet and stepped awkwardly to the rock where Spock sat. Loose gravel tumbled down the small slope and splashed into the water.

Spock turned at the sound, and watched as waves rippled out in concentric circles into the pond. Then he turned back and found Nila settled beside him. Her face was bright with anticipation.

For this moment, he thought, the past and the future will converge in this young girl. McCoy would have been pleased.

-the end –


End file.
